After turning the final page of John Williams’ Stoner, the words that echoed in my mind were: “agonizingly wonderful.” This wasn’t just a book; it was an experience, one that left me exquisitely exhausted and compelled to immediately reread it – a rare impulse usually reserved for cherished children’s picture books. Stoner has unequivocally claimed its place as my joint favorite novel, standing alongside literary giants like Titus Groan/Gormenghast and the Heaven and Hell trilogy. Yet, articulating the mesmerizing power of Stoner in a way that truly captures its essence feels like an impossible task.
A Chronicle of an Ordinary Life, Rendered Extraordinary
Stoner begins unconventionally, presenting a page of carefully crafted, almost obituary-like spoilers. From there, the narrative unfolds chronologically, tracing William Stoner’s journey from his rural upbringing and final school days to his life as a university student and eventually a faculty member. We witness his marriage, parenthood, a poignant affair, and ultimately, his quiet death. At the heart of Stoner’s existence is his profound love for literature and the university environment that allows him to share this passion. This devotion is poignantly summarized in his simple, heartfelt retirement words: “Thank you all for letting me teach.”
On the surface, this premise might appear dull, even banal. However, Stoner transcends ordinariness. It is a heartbreakingly beautiful novel, devoid of sentimentality, and remarkably, not depressing. Stoner’s enduring hope prevents the narrative from succumbing to despair, making it a profound exploration of life rather than a lament.
Thematic Contrasts: Eloquence and Inarticulacy in Stoner’s World
Language and literature are central to Stoner, yet inarticulacy emerges as a recurring and potent theme. It is often the catalyst for pain, but paradoxically, also the spark for Stoner’s greatest joy. A pivotal moment occurs during a compulsory literature review when his struggle to articulate his understanding of Shakespeare’s Sonnet 73 ignites a lifelong passion and career in English literature. This reticence, this inability to voice innermost thoughts, pervades the novel. It subtly explains the ambiguity surrounding Edith’s behavior; explicit explanations would disrupt the delicate tone and might have been considered inappropriate for the time of publication.
Stoner achieves many of his aspirations, yet happiness remains elusive, a fleeting and ephemeral experience. The positive aspects of his life are often lost or taken away by those he expected to be sources of love and friendship – Edith and Lomax, respectively. Intriguingly, both antagonists are depicted as sensitive, flawed individuals, mirroring Stoner’s own vulnerabilities. Lomax, like Stoner, even finds solace and escape in literature.
A central message resonating from Stoner is “carpe diem” – seize the day. This echoes Sonnet 73’s meditation on decay, mortality, and the urgency to appreciate what we have while we still can. Stoner exhibits bravery at key junctures, such as his audacious decision to switch from a predictable agricultural degree to the uncertain path of English literature, inspired by a sonnet he initially struggled to comprehend. Yet, this same man lacks the courage to inform his parents of this life-altering decision until after they attend his graduation, highlighting a complex interplay of boldness and timidity.
Deciphering William Stoner: A Study in Stoicism and Resilience
Some readers interpret Stoner as passive and weak, and there are moments where one might wish for him to act differently, particularly in defending his daughter and his lover. However, Stoner embodies a quiet stoicism, a trait befitting his academic focus on classical Greek literature. This stoicism, rooted in his upbringing and ingrained by habit and environment, runs too deep to allow for impulsive or outwardly assertive actions.
Stoner endures the loss of almost everything he values – even his connection with students and the pleasure he derives from books – leading to a perception of him as a failure in various roles: son, husband, father, lover, and even scholar. Despite these accumulating losses, he perseveres without bitterness, consistently striving to do his best. This quiet endurance, though melancholic, is paradoxically inspirational.
The novel contains autobiographical echoes of Williams’ own life, from a humble farming background to a university professorship, and in aspects of Stoner’s personality and inner struggles. An insightful interview with Nancy Gardner Williams, the author’s wife, provides further context.
Time and Place: Setting as a Character in Stoner’s Life
Unlike some readers, I find Stoner’s character entirely believable, especially when considering the significant social stigma and repercussions associated with divorce during the novel’s setting.
Would Stoner’s story have unfolded more happily in contemporary times? Undoubtedly, it would be different. However, flawed individuals tend to raise flawed individuals, regardless of the era. Tolstoy’s famous opening line, “All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way,” remains pertinent across historical contexts. Even transplanted to a modern setting, the fundamental unhappiness of Stoner’s family might persist, albeit in altered forms.
In a contemporary setting, Edith might have received help for potential bipolar disorder or the effects of childhood trauma, possibly mitigating the severity of her actions, though perhaps too late to salvage the marriage. Regardless, Katherine and Grace might have fared better, and figures like Lomax and Walker might not have acted with such impunity. It seems deliberate that Williams set the novel a generation prior to his writing period, adding a layer of historical and social commentary.
A Personal Resonance: Why Stoner Speaks to the Soul
What makes Stoner so profoundly moving and personally resonant? I am not a man, not American, not born at the turn of the 20th century, nor have I been a farmer or professor. Yet, my deep love for books, my occasional need for escapism, and my childhood spent on a family farm create a surprising connection.
The farm setting is undeniably a part of it. In some ways, Stoner reminds me of my grandfather, who passed away when I was 14. Although his life was happier than Stoner’s, he shared the same quiet, unwavering resilience, always striving to make the best of life’s circumstances.
The pervasive theme of emotional damage inflicted by well-intentioned but flawed parenting, compounded by poor communication, resonated deeply, particularly on a second reading. Larkin’s poignant verses, “They fuck you up, your mum and dad… But they were fucked up in their turn,” kept recurring in my mind. While my childhood was largely happy, complex and problematic aspects have shaped my adulthood and parenthood. As a mother to a wonderful 20-year-old, I am acutely aware of choices my husband and I could have made differently, though I believe we have navigated parenthood more effectively than the Stoners.
Further Themes: Soil, University, and the Human Condition
Soil is a significant motif in Stoner. Stoner is a “son of the soil,” and the novel is replete with allusions to its pervasive and binding power, seeping through floorboards and ingrained in skin and mind. Soil chemistry is the only agricultural course explicitly mentioned, and Stoner initially finds it engaging before discovering his true calling in literature. He is transplanted from the rural landscape to the university, where he establishes deep roots and remains steadfast, regardless of life’s adversities.
The university itself is almost a character in the novel, serving as the primary setting. Early in the narrative, a character contemplates whether the university is a path to self-fulfillment, an instrument for social good, or merely an asylum. The novel subtly reveals it to be all three.
“Lust and learning… that’s really all there is,” a character states, highlighting two fundamental human drives. However, both require outlets. The insularity of the main characters and their reluctance or inability to express their feelings lead to loneliness and isolation, preventing them from fully embracing life. This isolation carries a heavy price, most tragically manifested in Stoner’s daughter, Grace. The novel underscores the necessity of human connection, communication, and seizing the day.
At times, Stoner resembles Don Quixote, with Gordon Finch acting as a more pragmatic and influential Sancho Panza. Their enduring friendship stands as the novel’s most stable human relationship. Finch repeatedly risks his own standing to support Stoner, yet their bond is understated, deeply felt but not overtly demonstrative – a nuance worth exploring on a reread.
Problematic Yet Compelling Aspects
Stoner presents three troubling elements that, paradoxically, contribute to its compelling nature:
- Two characters are described using outdated and offensive terms for disability. While language evolves, the discomfort arises from both characters using their disability to manipulate and falsely claim prejudice for personal gain.
- The novel raises complex questions about consent in certain relationships (though not explicitly detailed in this review to avoid spoilers).
- The emotional abuse and manipulation of children are depicted in a chillingly credible manner.
Edith: A Study in Unknowability
Edith Stoner remains an enigmatic figure, lurking in the shadows and occasionally erupting into destructive actions. She is primarily seen through Stoner’s perspective and their daughter’s experiences, making it easy to condemn her calculated cruelty. It seems intentional that Edith is portrayed as closed-off and largely unknowable, mirroring Stoner’s own limited understanding of her motivations and inner world. This unknowability places the reader squarely in Stoner’s subjective experience.
Her behavior prompts speculation about potential bipolar disorder, though this term is never used in the novel. Her cycles of intense activity followed by periods of inexplicable incapacitation suggest such a condition. Furthermore, her cold and repressive upbringing likely plays a significant role in shaping her character. Larkin’s verses resonate again: parental influence echoing through generations. Perhaps her impulsive marriage to Stoner, a virtual stranger, with the pragmatic statement, “If it’s to be done… I want it done quick,” softened by “I’ll try to be a good wife to you,” stems from this complex background.
Literary Echoes: Novels and Art Reminiscent of Stoner
Stoner evokes echoes of other works, including:
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The poignant father-daughter dynamic in Williams’ Augustus.
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The constrained honeymoon in Ian McEwan’s On Chesil Beach.
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The bleak realism of Richard Yates’ novels.
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The stoicism, literary solace, and connection to nature in Cold Mountain.
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The solitary, bookish protagonist of Wendell Berry’s Jayber Crow.
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The charmingly imperfect life of Ebenezer Le Page set on Guernsey.
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The isolating urban scenes depicted in Edward Hopper’s paintings, such as Room in New York.
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The understated lives of Harold and Raymond McPheron in Kent Haruf’s Plainsong and Eventide.
Williams’ Literary Landscape: Comparing His Novels
(Reference to a comparative review of Williams’ novels, pointing to another review of Nothing But The Night).
Memorable Quotes from Stoner
(A curated selection of impactful quotes from Stoner, showcasing key themes and poignant moments in the novel.)
This Be The Verse, by Philip Larkin
(Reproduction of Larkin’s poem, emphasizing its thematic relevance to Stoner.)
Shakespeare’s Sonnet 73
(Reproduction of Sonnet 73, highlighting its significance within Stoner.)
